


every right thing will find its right place

by milfscully



Series: everything changes [2]
Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:13:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29829612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milfscully/pseuds/milfscully
Summary: A collection of one-shots providing a glimpse into the life of Zelda, Lilith, and their daughter.
Relationships: Zelda Spellman & Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith, Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Series: everything changes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192889
Comments: 21
Kudos: 62





	1. wooden floors and little feet, a flower bud in concrete

**Author's Note:**

> here's what you need to know:
> 
> 1\. i love babies
> 
> 2\. i love babyfic
> 
> 3\. not very many people do
> 
> 4\. which is fine that's their business
> 
> 5\. but this is my business
> 
> 6\. so this is going to be a place where i write about these gay bitches having a baby to my heart's content
> 
> 7\. and hopefully yall enjoy that
> 
> 8\. but if not that's literally fine
> 
> 9\. i will still be here
> 
> 10\. hmu if there's sumn u wanna see <3

Zelda can’t remember the last time she ate a full meal.

She absentmindedly pushes the food around her plate, too focused on the churning of her stomach to maintain the appearance of eating. With Hilda’s knowledge of the pregnancy came breakfasts and dinners with more bland, stomach soothing options for Zelda, an adaption that went unnoticed by Sabrina and Ambrose. Still, some days she finds it nearly impossible to eat more than a few pieces of toast or a handful of plain crackers.

Even as she breathes deeply through her slightly parted mouth, hoping that her discomfort won’t last long, the younger Spellmans are oblivious, caught in some debate Zelda can’t be bothered to get involved in. Another wave of nausea comes over her, bile rising in the back of her throat, which tightens at the sensation. She grips her fork harder, knuckles turning white, as she places a shaky hand atop her abdomen. The motion is caught only by Lilith, sat to Zelda’s left, who had been watching her play with her food the entirety of dinner.

“Excuse me,” she manages, before quickly scooting her chair back with an obnoxious screech and hurrying out of the room. Sabrina and Ambrose, engrossed in their conversation, merely glance at her, acknowledging her exit but thinking nothing of it, while both Hilda and Lilith watch her go. The former interjects a comment into the ongoing conversation, but her eyes remain locked on the latter, whose body immediately tenses at Zelda’s abrupt exit. They reach a silent understanding with an imperceptible nod and jerk of the head, and within seconds Lilith is excusing herself as well, slinking in Zelda’s direction with a spring in her step.

She beelines to the downstairs bathroom, thinking that if Zelda felt it necessary to excuse herself from dinner, then she likely didn’t have the time to make it to their bathroom upstairs. She spies light coming out from under the firmly shut door, and apprehensively turns the knob. As she pushes open the door, sympathy settles in the pit of her stomach when she sees Zelda slumped over the toilet, head hanging low. The witch, who is seldom seen as anything less than put-together, looks disheveled – her bent knees forcing her skirt to bunch up around her thighs, the long sleeves of her blouse wrinkled and haphazardly pushed up from her wrists. Her face is turned away from the door, and she doesn’t register Lilith’s presence until the brunette gently closes the door with a soft _click_.

She groans, turning her head and blinking bleary-eyed up at Lilith. “You don’t have to be here,” she slurs. “I’ll be fine in a moment.”

Lilith scoffs, scanning the bathroom before her eyes land on the towel rack. She snatches one of the small cloths atop an arrangement that was laid out, no doubt, by Hilda’s keen eye, running it under a stream of cool water from the faucet. Zelda absently watches her through half-lidded eyes as Lilith pads over to her limp form, kneeling to the ground and sitting back on her haunches.

“That’s decorative,” Zelda says, eyeing the towel in Lilith’s hand. Lilith tenderly pushes more of her hair back from her forehead.

“Shut up. Close your eyes.”

Zelda does as she’s told, which concerns Lilith. As she brings the washcloth over the pale, clammy skin of the redhead’s brow, Zelda shivers, but soon exhales in relief, leaning into the cool, wet fabric. She feels her body relax, her quivering stomach muscles seeming to unclench as she untenses. Tentatively, she sits up, placing a hand across her abdomen and cupping just below her belly button, and leans back against the wall. Lilith follows, settling next to Zelda and moving the cloth to her cheeks, her neck, her exposed sternum.

When she’s satisfied with Zelda’s physical response and notices that she no longer teeters on the edge of sickness, she tosses the towel into the sink and curls into Zelda’s side, bringing her own hand across the witch’s waist.

“I’m...surprised you remembered something as mortal as making a cold compress,” Zelda says, swallowing thickly. Her eyes remain closed as her head is tilted back against the wall, but Lilith can see a smile twitching at the corners of her lips. She sits up a bit straighter, placing a chaste kiss on Zelda’s collar bone.

“I had help. Hilda gave me a crash course in...pregnancy damage control.”

Zelda chuckles, but the sound turns into a gag as her throat tightens once more, another bout of nausea on the horizon.

“Talk to me,” she says, turning her head to look at Lilith with pleading eyes. “Just keep talking. It distracts me.”

Lilith suddenly can’t remember any thought she’s ever had in her very long life as she racks her brain for something to keep Zelda distracted.

She doesn’t think that any of their past experiences are enough to keep the other woman grounded – no vacation anecdote or holiday memory will anchor her the way something that makes her _think_ will. She needs to focus on something other than the contents (or lack thereof) of her stomach, or of the physical ailment itself.

Perhaps taking perspective is a viable option.

“I think the baby is going to look like you,” Lilith says, taking a leap. “Boy or girl, I think they’re going to look just like you. Have your eyes, maybe. Or hopefully your chin.”

Zelda scrunches her nose, but doesn’t speak.

“I love that little dimple you have there,” Lilith continues, “and wouldn’t it be delightful if our child had the same one?” As if to punctuate her point, she stretches her neck up to kiss Zelda’s chin.

“Maybe we’ll have a girl,” Lilith suggests, “and she’ll have your strength and your intelligence, and my devastating charm.”

Zelda opens her eyes and turns to face Lilith, coming nearly nose to nose with the brunette. “I have charm as well, you know.”

“Oh, of course you do,” Lilith agrees. “But I said she might have my _devastating_ charm, which is _quite_ different than how... _delectably_ charming you are.”

Zelda lets out a _humph,_ but lays her head on Lilith’s, which fits comfortably in the crook of her neck.

“Or...we’ll have a boy,” Lilith says, taking one of her hands and rubbing it across Zelda’s stomach. “And he will be brave, and righteous, and refuse to let anyone bully the empathy out of his heart.”

Finally, Zelda finds herself able to envision the possibilities she and Lilith speak of, rather than simply trying to survive the extreme uneasiness in her body. She thinks of holding a little girl on her hip during a summer lightning storm, standing outside and feeling the magic crackle in the air as she squeals with delight. She thinks of tucking a little boy into bed at night, listening to his imagination run wild with tall tales involving magical creatures both real and make believe.

It’s as if she’s returned from the sea and finds herself on solid ground when her stomach finally stops tossing and turning. Zelda cautiously sits up away from the wall, testing if her dizziness will continue or if the queasiness will rear its ugly head. Neither one comes back, and Zelda breathes deeply and easily.

Lilith drags a hand up and down her back, erasing any lingering unpleasant feelings. “Better? At all?”

Zelda breathes out through her mouth and nods before attempting to rise to her feet. Lilith is quicker, though, and stands with ease in order to help Zelda up. The redhead stubbornly allows Lilith to nearly pull her to her feet, swaying a bit on unsteady legs. But Lilith’s hands find their way to her waist and anchor her, keeping her from falling. Zelda takes Lilith’s face in her hands and kisses her firmly on the lips, muffling a surprised gasp from the other woman.

“Because I love you I’m going to pretend you didn’t just kiss my mouth after vomiting up whatever you’ve eaten in the last two hours,” Lilith says. Zelda pouts, causing the other woman to roll her eyes, but pull her closer. Zelda reaches for the hands on her waist and intertwines their fingers. She pulls Lilith behind her as she walks to the bathroom door.

“Come on, I feel well enough to go back out there. If we’re gone any longer the children are going to start thinking we’re having sex in here.”

Lilith hums. “Unfortunately I’m sure they al _ready_ think we’re having sex in here.”

* * *

_As she walks around the manor, the silence is deafening._

_Her heartbeat pounds in her ears._

_The weight of the baby in her arms is ever present in her mind, keeping her tethered to reality instead of letting her mind wander – keeping her from wondering why the usual echoes are absorbed into the walls and the floor or why the shadows seem to lurk around every corner as if they are alive._

_Still, she presses on, rhythmically bouncing the baby. She realizes, suddenly, that the bundle she holds has yet to make a sound. Her blood runs cold as she thinks that even a_ sleeping _baby should make some sound, whether it be soft grunts or sniffles or snores. She walks aimlessly through the foyer, unable to stop moving, as she strains her ears in the hopes of catching some kind of sound of life from the baby._

_Finally, she hears a sound as she reaches the first landing of the manor’s grand staircase._

_The shuffling is behind her._

_She turns, gripping the blankets tighter to her chest. Her eyes take in the sight that is unexpectedly illuminated by a circle of light._

_Blood._

_Pools and pools of blood, covering the floor and splattered on the walls and in tracks all around the room like a body was dragged through the wreckage._

_She gasps, nearly dropping the baby, but recovers, only to look down at the swaddled bundle in her arms to see nothing._

_Because where a sleeping babe’s face should be, is instead a dark stain on the pretty yellow blanket that makes bile rise in her throat._

_In a panic she does let the blankets go. Horror creeps up her spine when she looks down to see her hands covered in blood from the tips of her fingers to the middle of her forearms._

_Her breaths come out short and fast. She remembers the shuffling sound that initially startled her, and jerks her head up, the sound getting louder and closer._

_Then, the source moves into the light, revealing its identity._

_And she sees herself._

_Not the version of herself she’s found comfort in – the mortal woman with dark curls cascading down her back and big, bright blue eyes and freckled sand-colored skin._

_No, she sees her original form._

_Her_ natural _form._

_Razor sharp teeth, dark scaly skin, lust for human flesh a permanent fixture in her eyes._

_And she watches, paralyzed, as the full picture of what has occurred in the foyer comes into focus._

_There are bodies thrown carelessly around the room. She counts four total, causing dread to slip further into the pit of her stomach._

_She sees two blonde heads and quickly looks away, but her eyes take her to the only male form, sitting against the wall, limbs set in unnatural angles._

_She tries to shut her eyes but can’t, her mind forcing her to seek out the last body, the last one she_ knows _has to be there somewhere, and then she finds it –_

_...laying lifeless on the floor, her demon form poised and ready to sink her teeth into the pale skin of the neck._

_An anguished scream pierces the air, released from her lungs without her knowledge or permission. But it’s useless; nothing stops herself from ripping the soft flesh of her lover from her body, effectively skinning her half-alive._

_Lilith tries to move but finds her feet glued to the spot as she’s forced to sense Zelda’s faint heartbeat slowly cease altogether until all that’s left is –_

_“_ Lilith!” Zelda nearly yells, her nails digging into the brunette’s shoulder. Lilith wakes with a start, catapulting herself into a sitting position. Her eyes are wide, her breaths ragged, and she grips the sheets so hard Zelda can see veins materialize on the surface of her hands.

Despite the bulge of her stomach, Zelda struggles into a seated position, reaching out her hand toward Lilith as if she were approaching a wild animal. Her fingers make contact with the brunette’s skin and she involuntarily flinches, either forgetting that Zelda is next to her or unaware of her surroundings. But Zelda’s touch is firm, and she continues rubbing long strokes across the back of Lilith’s shoulders and making soft shushing noises until her breathing evens out. She waves her hand, opening two of their bedroom windows and letting the cool September air filter into the room.

“I-I’m sorry,” Lilith stammers, avoiding Zelda’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to...I’m sorry.”

Shame sits like a dead weight in her chest – shame for being so weak as to let a silly nightmare cause such a disruption in the middle of the night, and shame for allowing that disruption to wake Zelda when it’s hard enough for her to fall asleep as it is. Her eyes sting with unshed tears. She looks away, and Zelda shakes her head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

She leans back, laying on her side, and pulls Lilith down with her. The brunette hesitates, but ultimately allows her resolve to melt away, and lies down. Instinctively, she burrows her head into Zelda’s chest, right below her chin and above her heart, and the redhead methodically runs her fingers through Lilith’s curls.

“I haven’t had a dream like that in a while; it caught me off-guard,” Lilith explains, her voice quiet. Zelda uses her other hand to pull her as close as she can with her stomach in the way.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now, if you’d rather not,” Zelda says. She feels Lilith nod against her, and the two of them are content enough to lay in silence, until Zelda winces.

She stops stroking Lilith’s hair, and instead takes one of her hands, placing it just to the left of her belly button. When the baby rolls under her skin once more, Lilith immediately pulls her hand away. Though the action is deliberate, it isn’t hurried, or panicked, which causes Zelda to believe that Lilith is pensive more than anything else.

The thought makes her heart ache. With that realization, it isn’t hard for her to piece together that she likely had a dream about the baby. And it wasn’t a good one.

“She’s always more active when you’re around,” Zelda says, breaking the silence. Lilith doesn’t respond, so she presses on. “I believe...something about your presence excites her. She’s going to adore you when she’s born, I can tell already.

And there are so many experiences we’ll get to share with her. As a family. We’ll teach her how to cast her first spell and make her first potion. We can take her around the world, and to other realms, and you’ll be able to pass on all of the knowledge you’ve learned from all of the lives you’ve lived.”

Lilith gulps, audibly, before propping herself up on her elbow and looking into Zelda’s eyes. “And you trust me? To do that, for her, with you?

Zelda’s first instinct is to furrow her brow and emphatically reassure her, but the vulnerability in Lilith’s eyes gives her pause. “I do,” she says instead. “I do, because I know you, and I know your _heart_.” She cups Lilith’s cheek in her hand. “And because I know those things, I know that our daughter couldn’t be luckier to have you as a mother.”

Her words don’t entirely heal Lilith’s wounds, but they certainly make them sting less. She wiggles into Zelda’s embrace once more, accepting the comfort of the witch’s arms wrapped around her body, enveloping her as much as she’s able to. It’s a comfort she isn’t sure she’s earned, but if there’s one thing she’s sure of, it’s that she’ll spend the rest of her life working toward being worthy of it. 


	2. they're gluing roses on a flatbed, you should see it -- i mean thousands

The baby whimpers.

Lilith wakes from the light sleep she fell into. She pries her eyes open one at a time, waiting to see if the soft whines blossom into full-blown wails.

They don’t. But they don’t stop, either, the baby debating how long she should maintain her cries before upping the ante to get _someone_ to pay attention to her. Lilith lifts her head and peers over at Zelda. The redhead remains asleep, curled away from Lilith, the mess of red curls at the top of her head the only part of her peeking out from under the comforter. The baby continues making noise, and, upon sensing Zelda beginning to stir, Lilith decides to tend to whatever she might need in order to give the other woman the rest she desperately deserves.

In a flash, Lilith slips out from under the covers. She tiptoes over to the bassinet at the end of their bed, looking down to find big blue eyes staring back at her. Satisfied that she spurred one of her mothers into action, Thea quiets. Her sounds of distress turn into spit-fueled baby gurgles as she reaches up, up, begging to be held. Lilith sighs, looking back at Zelda’s still sleeping form before scooping the baby up and settling her in her arms, pressed against her chest.

“There, there,” she coos. She walks toward the en suite bathroom, a palm cupping the baby’s warm head. Thea grabs a handful of Lilith’s nightgown in her tiny fist. “We don’t need to wake your mama up with all of that fussing, now do we?”

The baby continues to make miscellaneous infant sounds, drooling onto Lilith’s chest all the while, as she shuts them inside the bathroom. Deciding that the standard light would be far too bright for this time of night, Lilith casts a quick spell, setting a dozen orbs of warm, white light loose into the room, creating a mesmerizing display. Thea’s eyes sparkle as she follows the floating nightlights, too enraptured to make a sound. Lilith rubs a firm hand up and down her back, hoping to lull her back to sleep.

For her own comfort, and the exhaustion that lives in the marrow of her bones these days, Lilith moves to the bathtub, resting on the edge and adjusting Thea more solidly against her chest. She rocks from side to side, but instead of letting sleep take over, the baby is only focused on what lies just beyond her mother’s back – the inside of the bath.

She makes a low cry to get Lilith’s attention, who in turn stops her movements and looks down at the babe. The child places a chubby hand on Lilith’s cheek, trying to turn her head with all of the strength her four month old body can muster, which is enough to get Lilith to direct her attention elsewhere. When she realizes that Thea’s attention is fixated on the bath, she chuckles.

“Clever girl,” she whispers, kissing the baby’s forehead. Ever since her first bath, Thea has been fascinated with water. The morning dew on the grass, the cold sleet and rain, even the tap water dripping from the faucets – she watches it all with rapt focus, spellbound by the element. It comes as no surprise that the baby would yearn to be in the water before heading to bed; she expects nothing less from a child of Zelda Spellman.

Lilith exhales dramatically, looking into the baby’s crystal clear gaze. “You are so very lucky that you’re cute, and I love you,” she says, standing. She swears Thea sees through the pretend annoyance, knows that she already has the Queen of Hell wrapped so tightly around her finger that the slightest jerk would have her pulled off her feet, but she concedes that though their daughter is extraordinary, she _might_ simply be sleep deprived.

Limbs heavy, Lilith takes the few steps to the changing table they brought in as a last minute addition before Thea’s birth (one Lilith thought was redundant, but has proven to be invaluable on more than one occasion). She carefully pulls the baby’s onesie off and removes her diaper, making sure to tickle under her arms and kiss her smooth baby belly for good measure. Once she charms the girl to stay in one spot long enough for Lilith to remove her nightgown, she does just that, stripping bare in record time by even _her_ standards.

With the both of them as fully skin-to-skin as possible, Lilith steps into the empty bathtub and lowers herself down, the baby still firmly pressed against her side. She places her hand on the faucet, closing her eyes and mouthing an incantation, before turning the taps and letting the perfectly warm water flow into the porcelain structure. She bends her legs and lays the baby against her thighs, facing her. Thea smiles, a gummy little grin, and Lilith can’t help but return it.

Once Lilith is satisfied with the amount of water, she gestures toward the other end of the tub, effectively stopping the stream. Another thought or two and the bath suddenly shimmers in the dim glow of the room, as if filled with moonlight.

Thea, covered up to her stomach in the water, giddily splashes the glittering liquid. At first, Lilith is content to simply watch her, the baby’s glee quite contagious, but eventually, she finds herself scrunching her nose or sticking out her tongue, simply to hear that melodic baby laugh. Lilith takes a wet foot and brings it to her mouth, blowing raspberries and pretending to eat it, and Thea roars with laughter.

In the bedroom, Zelda wakes some time later, the heaviness in her breasts causing a discomfort too great to sleep through. Once awake, though, she determines that things in the milk department aren’t as dire as she thought, which, instead of sending her back to sleep with some semblance of relief, only proves to resign her to the fact that she is now, for better or worse, _up._

She rolls over, finding Lilith’s side of the bed empty, and doesn’t really think much of it. After all, the woman is known to make frequent middle of the night trips to Hell to check in on how things are running, but the lack of sound from the baby’s bassinet sets off a tightening in Zelda’s chest. Just before she can spiral into a full-blown panic and wake the entire house to conduct a man-hunt for a fifteen pound child who can’t even walk, her brain connects that if Lilith is gone, and the bassinet is empty, and there is a faint glow coming from under the bathroom door, then the baby is almost certainly quite safe in the care of her mother.

Sighing, she sits up and gingerly stretches, wincing the tiniest bit as the muscles in her abdomen slightly protest at the movement. Zelda climbs out of bed and moves purposefully toward the bathroom door. Assuming the two of them are together, that’s where she most wants to be, and if the weight of her breasts is any indication, Thea will need to be fed before she sleeps again anyway.

She opens the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to interrupt whatever is going on beyond the threshold of the room. What she sees nearly takes her breath away – Lilith, sitting submerged in the bathtub with their baby propped up in front of her, playing peekaboo in a sing-song voice. Even if her demon subjects in Pandemonium bore witness to the scene, Zelda’s not entirely sure they would believe it, seeing the Queen of Hell so unguarded and free. She’s never doubted Lilith’s capacity for tenderness (after all, it’s one of the many things she loves about her), but seeing it in action with the little person they created together is a new experience altogether. It’s a privilege she’s grateful for every day.

As Zelda walks a bit further into the room, Thea sees her before Lilith does, and reaches her chunky baby arms in her direction, excitedly opening and closing her fists. Zelda beams.

“What did I say about waking up Mama?” Lilith whispers, leaning in to speak in the baby’s ear. Thea gurgles in response, Lilith nodding her head as if to mimic understanding. “I know, lovebug. I miss her too.”

Zelda rolls her eyes good-naturedly. She strides over to the bathtub and perches on the edge, facing Lilith, and cups the back of Thea’s skull. She rubs a thumb up and down the fuzzy skin on the baby’s head and coos as the baby looks up at her, pure devotion in her focused stare.

“I’m sorry, truly, for waking you,” Lilith says, suddenly somber. Zelda dismisses the comment with a shake of her head.

“You didn’t. They did,” she replies. She looks down at her chest, and Lilith chuffs out a laugh before reaching out to stroke the outside of Zelda’s thigh.

“Does she need to be fed? We can be done here.”

Zelda shakes her head, again. “Not yet. We have some time.”

Lilith nods, then looks Zelda over while the witch allows Thea to grab at her fingers. “Why don’t you join us?” she suggests after a moment. Zelda pauses, considering, though it takes less than a minute for her to stand and shimmy out of the nightgown she wore to bed. Lilith starts to pick up the baby, as if to hold her high enough to allow Zelda to slip in front of her, but she’s stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

“Scoot forward,” Zelda says, and Lilith timidly does as she’s told.

Slowly, carefully, Zelda slides into the still warm bath water behind Lilith. She takes a moment to situate herself, their slight height difference aiding in allowing Zelda to fit her body snuggly around Lilith’s. Arms wrapped around Lilith’s middle, Zelda sighs, settling her chin on the brunette’s shoulder.

She loves holding Lilith; even more, she loves holding Lilith while Lilith holds their daughter. To finally give her the love and safety she went so long without feels like a gift, and it feels more meaningful, now, with the addition of the gift Zelda never thought she’d ever receive. She snuggles closer to Lilith’s back – well, as close as her full breasts will allow – and kisses her neck. Lilith leans into the kiss, and Thea returns to her previous game of seeing how much water she can splash before her mothers decide they’ve had enough.

Though both women have barely gotten enough sleep to properly function in months, they stay in the bath, giggling with their baby, for far longer than they know they should. When Lilith hands over Thea to Zelda, moving to sit across from her at the other end of the bathtub, and the baby sucks hungrily at her mother’s breast, trying desperately to keep her eyes open, it’s as if they exist in their own universe, their own bubble of reality, with only each other.

Around them, the world sleeps on.


	3. and this bond, beyond unshakeable; even if we all forgot all at the same time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a sleepy saturday morning in the spellman household

Their lives look different with a baby. Their weekends are no exception.

On this particular Saturday, Zelda creeps into consciousness slowly, the pre-dawn light gently coaxing her from sleep. It’s a welcome change from her new normal of having her schedule dictated by a wailing infant, but once the tranquil energy ebbs away, she finds herself in a bit of a panic, wondering why the baby is so quiet.

She rolls over, watching Lilith’s body rise and fall with each deep breath, and kisses her bare shoulder before slinking out of bed. There’s no use in trying to go back to sleep. Even if Thea isn’t yet awake, which she highly doubts, as the girl rivals how Sabrina was as a baby in her eagerness to start the day, Zelda knows she’ll need to be fed soon. Tiptoeing over to the bassinet, she tries to sneak a glance at the baby, hoping to find that the lack of persistent crying means that she’s still asleep.

Unfortunately, she has no such luck.

Thea’s bright-eyed gaze meets Zelda’s head-on. The baby sucks contentedly on a pacifier, grabbing at her onesie covered feet with both hands. When she realizes that her mother is really there and _really_ seeing her too, she smiles, her drooly, gummy grin peeking out from behind the pacifier. Zelda smiles (because, despite the early hour, how could she not match that deliciously exciting baby energy? How could she resist smiling when her little girl is so happy to simply see her face?) and reaches into the bassinet. She rubs a gentle hand over the baby’s belly before tickling her under her chin.

Looking back at the bed, ensuring Lilith is still solidly asleep, she picks Thea up and settles her on her hip. The baby curls into Zelda’s shoulder immediately, resting a wet fist on her mother’s clavicle.

Arm firmly wrapped around the baby’s warm body, Zelda descends the stairs. The house is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock. Zelda notes the time as she passes by it, but ultimately spares it no further thought.

While she certainly spends her fair share of nights awake with the baby, whether she’s hungry or she needs to be changed or she just feels like demanding attention, the early mornings she spends with her daughter are her favorite. It feels nearly magical, like she stole time from the gods themselves just to have a few moments of solitude with this tiny miracle she loves so desperately. In the quiet morning hours, the only person who expects anything of her is the baby she grew in her belly; there’s nothing nor no one else she has to think about.

She enters the kitchen and debates flicking on a light. The windows let in enough of the morning to have her decide against it, choosing to let the rising sun slowly illuminate the room. She retrieves the necessary materials to make coffee, but uses magic to start the process, something that perplexes Hilda to no end (“Honestly,” she says, “I’ve shown you how to use it so many times – and you _still_ refuse to even try?” Zelda only shrugs. “I don’t see the point. Unlike _you,_ such menial tasks offer nothing for me except wasting my time.” Hilda huffs and drops the subject). She lets out a dejected sigh as she watches the decaffeinated beans grind and funnel themselves into the percolator.

Thea, as if sensing her mother’s resignation over still drinking decaf, raises her head from Zelda’s shoulder. She lifts her hand from her collarbone and sets it as lightly as she can against Zelda’s cheek, though her limited understanding of “lightly” still feels like a tiny baby slap in the face. She exhales a laugh, and Thea moves her hand to settle on Zelda’s mouth, patting her lips insistently, getting Zelda to press a few small kisses to her soft (still wet) palm.

With the coffee brewing, Zelda pads over to the dining table, noticing for the first time that a bowl of fresh fruit sits in the center, directly next to a handwritten note and a newspaper. She scans the note, which tells her that Hilda left early that morning for a last minute weekend day trip with Cee and wouldn’t be returning until late afternoon. She’s a bit tickled that her sister was thoughtful enough to conjure an international paper (Italian, she notes, which isn’t one she would usually pick, and that piques her interest) and leave fruit, freshly picked from the garden, but she supposes it’s silly to still be pleased by such things, as if Hilda hasn’t been doing them their whole lives.

She switches Thea to her other hip and pops a blueberry into her mouth. Thea extends her hand toward the fruit, opening and closing her fist, and Zelda kisses her temple.

“Not just yet, darling,” she whispers, pulling out her designated chair and settling down in her designated spot. She shifts Thea a bit into her lap. Once she tugs the strap of her nightgown down, the baby seems to sense what’s coming, as she almost vibrates with excitement on Zelda’s thighs. Though she _is_ an exceptional midwife, it never ceases to amaze her how perceptive her daughter can be, and how attuned she is to when and how she’s fed. Zelda removes Thea’s pacifier and immediately sets her in front of her chest, angling her toward her breast. She settles in comfortably, as she does every morning, and Zelda flips through the paper as the baby suckles, loudly, which her mother finds endlessly amusing.

Zelda finishes up an article on a local election just as Thea releases her hold with a _pop._ In a routine as natural to her as breathing, she rests the baby over her shoulder, patting her back until she expels a loud burp that could put any straight white man to shame.

“Exceptional in all things, I see,” Zelda coos, playfully, as she sits Thea in her lap and readjusts her nightgown. The baby laughs and slams her hands on the table.

She treasures how she cared for Sabrina as a baby, but until Thea, Zelda truly didn’t realize how whole she feels taking care of a child, never wanted to accept that she never feels better than when she has the weight of her daughter in her arms. If she could live in these moments forever, with her child wrapped up in her protective hold, she’s sure she would – there’s not a doubt in the world.

Zelda grabs a handful of blueberries from the bowl in front of her and summons a butter knife from one of the kitchen drawers. Under Thea’s watchful eye, she slices the berries in half, then in half again, before setting the knife out of reach. Once she’s sure she’s finished, Thea messily snatches the pieces of fruit off of the table, but places them in her open mouth with the utmost precision.

One eye on the baby, Zelda rifles through the newspaper for a human interest story, or something relatively benign. She finds an article toward the back, cataloguing a couple’s country-wide search for a missing pet, and reads the story aloud to the attentive baby chomping happily against her chest. About halfway through, Thea takes a slimy piece of fruit out of her mouth after taking a bite and offers the rest to Zelda, sticking her outstretched hand dangerously close to the redhead’s mouth.

She’s barely successful, but successful nonetheless, in suppressing a grimace, and allows the baby to ungracefully shove the food past her lips, pantomiming sounds and gestures of delight at Thea’s willingness to share and pleasure at the taste of the fruit.

“Mm, thank you,” Zelda says, and Thea squeals at the performance, which means that the rest of Zelda’s time reading is spent intercepting mushy pieces of fruit that her child so graciously feeds her.

Once the blueberries are gone, and the story is finished, Zelda attempts to set Thea in her high chair, which they’ve been trying to get the baby used to, in order to clean up a bit. She’s hardly out of her mother’s arms, however, when Thea’s pout turns into watery cries, and Zelda can’t bring herself to put her down.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” she murmurs against the top of the baby’s fuzzy head, “I know, it’s alright.” She presses her mouth against her daughter’s chubby cheek, whispering conspiratorially. “We’ll tell Mama you were such a good girl and sat in your big girl chair the entire morning.”

The baby sniffles and burrows further into Zelda’s chest, and her mother holds her tighter. She mutters a familiar incantation, wiping down the table and counters. The summer sun is just starting to warm the house as she heads back upstairs, Thea once again firmly held against her hip.

When she walks back into their bedroom, after stopping off to change Thea, she finds Lilith still asleep, but with the comforter thrown off and her long legs exposed. Zelda bounces the baby as she quietly climbs back into bed, sitting against the headboard. Thea gets restless in her arms, so Zelda gently puts her down on the bed between her and Lilith, and the six month old rocks back and forth on all fours before half-crawling, half-dragging herself the few steps to Lilith’s sleeping form.

Though Lilith rests on her stomach, her head lays on her arms, face turns toward Zelda’s side of the bed, as if even in sleep she never wants to take her eyes off of the redhead. Thea ungracefully plops down, inches from Lilith’s face, and grabs at her nose.

Zelda can’t suppress a laugh as Thea’s grip on Lilith holds strong, meaning that when Lilith finally comes to, she’s greeted by the baby’s face occupying the majority of her vision. She smiles, taking Thea’s hand from her nose and bringing it to her mouth, feigning taking a bite out of it, causing the baby to squeal with laughter.

Lilith looks up at Zelda, then, sleep still in her eyes. “Good morning. What time is it?”

The corners of Zelda’s mouth twitch into a smile. She brushes a wild strand of hair behind Lilith’s ear. “Half past seven.”

Her statement causes a frown to form. “How long have you been up? Why didn’t you wake me?” Lilith asks. There’s a bit of hurt at the edge of her words, which Zelda quickly alleviates.

“I wanted you to rest. And I was hoping I could wake you myself,” she says, coyly, leaning over to press her lips against Lilith’s bare shoulder. She moves to sit back up, but Lilith catches her by the jaw, pulling her to her mouth in a deep kiss, and causing her to fall solidly on her side.

The baby scrambles onto her stomach. Zelda lifts herself up enough to flip her onto her back, but relinquishes any desire to leave the bed again, getting comfortable with her head on half of Lilith’s pillow. Lilith drapes her arm over the baby and rests her hand on her chest, flat against the soft periwinkle fabric of her onesie, feeling her heartbeat thumping beneath her palm. She kisses her daughter on the forehead, then the cheek, before finally tapping her finger against her little nose.

One of Zelda’s favorite things about having a child with Lilith is witnessing the unexpected softness the Queen of Hell is capable of – in even more ways than she’s ever been with Zelda herself. Her heart aches as Lilith props herself up on her elbow and tickles the baby all over, talking to her in a sweet, melodic voice. Through infectious baby giggles, Thea maintains her gaze, seeming to follow along with her mother’s speech.

Zelda closes her eyes, breathes in Thea’s lingering baby smell, and decides this can be their Saturday morning for five more minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i miss miranda otto. that's all i have to say rn


End file.
